


A Mandatory Bonding Session

by typicrobots



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-13
Updated: 2006-07-13
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:33:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6704695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typicrobots/pseuds/typicrobots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan doesn't really listen anymore when Michael speaks, or when Kelly speaks, for that matter. He thinks he's been at Dunder Mifflin way too long if his body has adapted itself to tune out certain pitches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mandatory Bonding Session

Ryan feels trapped. They're at Chili's again, though he's not sure why. Michael said for morale, or a mandatory bonding session, or a magic show. Something with an "M." Ryan doesn't really listen anymore when Michael speaks, or when Kelly speaks, for that matter. He thinks he's been at Dunder Mifflin way too long if his body has adapted itself to tune out certain pitches.  
  
He wants to go home but Kelly is standing dangerously close to the exit, yapping away at Meredith who is more focused on the drink in her hand than anything. Usually Ryan wouldn't mind waiting Kelly out because that means drinks at the bar with Jim, but right now Jim is standing in the corner with Pam, making her laugh, and Ryan knows Guy Rule #1: No cockblocking.  
  
So. That's how he finds himself with Michael, who is slumped low enough on his stool that his chin is on the bar. The neon blue drink with the cherry, the pineapple slice, the olive, and the umbrella – all of which Michael demanded from the bartender – is tipping dangerously in his hand. A few drops fall onto Michael's white shirt and Ryan resists the temptation to wipe them off with his napkin. Instead he edges away, fearing for his own shirt.  
  
"Ryan," Michael slurs. Tries to aim his drink at his mouth without much success. "After you finish business school, you should come to me-" The glass has found its way to his lips and Ryan is grateful that Michael didn't get to finish that sentence. Michael laps up the margarita or the daiquiri or the whatever like a dog.  
  
Ryan's suffocating. Ryan wants to get out of here. He pulls off his cheap, purple, JC Penny tie and throws it into the briefcase his mom bought for him when he started business school. On nights he has classes he usually has his books in there, but other days – days like today – he only carries his Game Boy and some Extra Long Slim Jims, in case Michael gets another craving and wants him to drive all the way out to the Exxon in Dunmore again.  
  
When he turns back to his drink on the bar, Michael's nose is right at his neck. One of Ryan's top buttons has come undone and Michael is peering uncomfortably close at his collarbone. Michael reaches out to Ryan's chest, slides his hand under his shirt at where the button has opened, and rests his palm over his left nipple.   
  
"Michael," Ryan says very slowly, very quietly. "What. The fuck. Are you doing."  
  
"Do you wax?" Michael asks his Adam's apple. Ryan takes Michael's wrist and gently removes his hand from his chest. He then grabs his briefcase, the Game Boy and Slim Jims knocking around noisily in there, and heads towards the exit.  
  
Kelly calls after him but Ryan doesn't stop.


End file.
